


Sullen sky

by Elisexyz



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia is Bad at Feelings, Post-Episode: s01e05 Bottled Appetites
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:22:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24199669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elisexyz/pseuds/Elisexyz
Summary: “Uhm, Geralt?” Jaskier calls out, waving his hand in front of him. Geralt’s eyes snap up, his muscles tensing because of the startle. Jaskier’s expression is no less friendly than usual, an easy smile on his face as he jokes: “I’ll have you know that my eyes are up here.”
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 48
Kudos: 243





	Sullen sky

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Tumblr prompt: ["Yeah, I was there." + Geraskier.](https://heytheredeann.tumblr.com/post/619294063376646145/12-geraskier) In which Geralt feels Something and decides "hmm. it must be rage. must pick a fight", because he's like that.

Geralt can’t will himself to stop staring.

Now that he has finally managed to get some rest, he finds himself almost _missing_ the sleepy haze, the way his mind couldn’t seem to fixate on anything and his attention wandering from place to place only fuelled his irritation, making him even _less_ inclined to relax.

At the moment, he has plenty of focus to spare, and it’s all being used to make him stare at Jaskier’s neck, at the way his throat moves as he talks, thinking of all the ways today could have gone wrong — it almost _did_. He can still see the swelling, he can still hear the way Jaskier was _wheezing_ beside him, the sound tearing through everything else if he thought too hard about it.

And all because of one fucking wish.

“Uhm, Geralt?” Jaskier calls out, waving his hand in front of him. Geralt’s eyes snap up, his muscles tensing because of the startle. Jaskier’s expression is no less friendly than usual, an easy smile on his face as he jokes: “I’ll have you know that my eyes are up here.”

Geralt’s eyes flicker down on his throat again, of their own volition, and the knot in his stomach only tightens. “Hmm.”

Jaskier pouts, his tone a world of offense as he asks: “Have you been listening to a _word_ I said?”

“No,” he answers truthfully, without even hesitating. He can’t read any anger in his body language, can’t even smell it, so he’s positive that Jaskier won’t _snap_ at him, and the thought is oddly irritating.

It feels like there should be a _fight_ here. Geralt surely is pissed off enough for it.

Jaskier doesn’t seem to be on his same wavelength, though, because instead of taking the bait he only stares, his expression quickly softening. “I’m okay, you know?” he says, soothing and with no strain in his voice, because Yennefer delivered what she’d promised, what he’d all but _begged_ for as they were running out of time —

“You almost died,” he snaps. Why the fuck does Jaskier seem to be so _okay_ with it?

“Yeah, I know,” he scoffs. “I was there.”

It’s just about cutting enough that Geralt has to look away, because _apparently_ harsher tones didn’t make him feel any better. Still, he doesn’t have many options ahead, or none that he knows what to do with at least.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” he says, a challenge and an accusation at once. What kind of idiot isn’t cross at the person who almost _killed_ him?

“About what?” Jaskier asks, another light smile on his face and his tone once again joking, carefree. “Your terrible taste in women? Bedding a crazy witch is probably a bad idea that’s going to come back to bite you in the arse, but I can hardly pass judgement on the matter, I’m afraid.”

Geralt wants to strangle him.

And with that thought only comes back the memory of swelling and wheezing and blood and _terror_ , so all-encompassing that at times Geralt wasn’t even sure he wasn’t smelling the stench of his own fear, rather than Jaskier’s.

Something in him trembles, and more anger comes.

“ _About_ how I was the one with the wishes,” he hisses. “ _About_ my first wish, the one that almost chocked you on your own _blood_.”

Jaskier stares for a long moment, and there’s something unbearably soft in his expression as he speaks. “Assuming that you didn’t _actually_ want me dead — which I figured was implied by your prompt rescue, feel free to correct me — it was an accident. I’m not mad at you.”

“Why the fuck not?”

Jaskier spreads his arms, shrugging. “I mean, we _were_ fighting, and I _was_ trying to get a rise out of you, it’s only natural that you wished for me to shut up. Expected, even.”

That is — such a _ridiculous_ way to think about it.

“Just because you are annoying it doesn’t mean you deserve to die,” he all but growls. He should have been more _careful_ — with a Djinn nearby, he knows better than to yell out his frustration, or at least he _should_. He can honestly say that he had no idea he was expressing a wish that would be granted, but he _still_ shouldn’t have been so careless.

“I am going to choose to ignore that first part and focus on the second,” Jaskier informs him, nonchalantly. “Thank you, Geralt, I appreciate the sentiment and I agree that my untimely death would be a _terrible_ tragedy.”

Geralt is beginning to reconsider his previous statement.

With frustration boiling in his stomach and a very prominent urge to punch something, he shoots on his feet, shaking his head and deciding to take a _walk_. Maybe, if he’s lucky, he’ll stumble on some famished beast and he will release some of the tension.

Jaskier, who of course can never allow things to be that easy, is quick to stand up as well, chasing after him and gripping his arm. “Hey, hey, wait a second —”

Geralt could push him away and keep going, but he still stops, turning around to give him his fiercest glare, ineffective as he knows it to be.

Jaskier draws a subtle sigh of relief, his fingers twitching before he decides not to let go. “Alright, I can see you are upset —”

Geralt automatically snorts.

“Oh, no, don’t give me that ‘Witchers don’t feel anything’ horseshit, you _are_ upset — and I was probably being a little too insensitive, I apologize.”

“No need,” Geralt mutters, unsure if he should be vaguely amused by how _ridiculous_ it is to apologize to _him_ of all people for being insensitive or if he should be frustrated that the man who almost _died_ by his hand is the one saying he’s sorry.

Jaskier makes a sceptical face that yells ‘ _yes_ need’, but he doesn’t press the issue. “Listen,” he says instead. “I really am fine, and I _really_ am not mad at you, but I have no idea what I’m supposed to do to make you stop feeling guilty here, so just — help me out, will you? I can’t have you brooding like that for months now, can I?”

At the slightly more teasing question, Geralt’s stomach twists painfully. He knew, of course, that it’s their habit to meet up and travel together for as long as they feel like it, usually for months at the time, but somehow only now it dawns on him that it’s been a _day_ and this already happened.

Only a day.

“It won’t be a problem,” he says, impassively. “I’ll escort you to the nearest town, then we’ll part ways.”

Knowing an argument will come, he shakes Jaskier’s hand off him and turns to leave. For a moment, Jaskier doesn’t comment nor tries to stop him, maybe out of shock, but the break doesn’t last long, and Geralt hasn’t really gone far when Jaskier jogs after him, expression indignant as he places himself in front of him.

Geralt stops, sighing.

“Seriously?” Jaskier snaps. “Are you fucking serious right now? Your solution to this is to dump me in the nearest civilized place you can find?”

“Yes,” he says, and he’s half-tempted to leave it at that, but Jaskier smells of anger and fear and _sadness_ all mixed together, and it’s nauseating. “It’s only been a day, and look at what happened,” he adds, somewhat gentler.

Jaskier snorts. “It can only go uphill from here, can’t it?”

It takes Geralt about five seconds to come up with a bunch of gruesome imaginings contradicting that sentiment, but he doesn’t share them. In fact, he doesn’t answer at all, only staring.

Jaskier takes a breath, like he’s short for air, and Geralt’s muscles tense automatically. In a moment, though, Jaskier starts talking with ease. “Look, I’m not going to let you drop me here just because you had a fright,” he says, resolutely. “I’ll tie myself to Roach if I have to.”

Geralt’s eyebrows shoot up, a smile tugging at his lips. “Really?” he echoes, and it sounds just as amused as it is sceptical.

Jaskier nods solemnly. “Absolutely. It’s been months since we last saw each other and, believe it or not, I’ve missed your _delightful_ company. I’m sure the feeling is mutual.” Geralt’s snort gets predictably ignored. “So, I appreciate your aggressive attempts at caring for me, but I am not going to stay in some shithole of a town when I could be traveling with the White Wolf himself. I’m running a little short on story material here.”

“Of course you are,” Geralt mutters, rolling his eyes.

He _could_ still leave him behind. If he were to set Roach at a pace impossible to follow on foot — the mere thought leaves a bad aftertaste in his mouth, though. He can’t say he has never _considered_ it, some days when Jaskier just kept talking or he was trying to get the _details_ of his latest kill out of him in a particularly insisting way, but he just never did it. And besides, Jaskier seems to be rather talented at finding him. It wouldn’t help much.

“You know,” Jaskier says, thoughtfully. “If you are so scared for my life, perhaps not leaving me here alone at night would be a good first step towards easing your worries.”

Geralt blows some air out of his nose, trying his best to convey that he is _not a patient man_ in just one stare, but Jaskier shrugs, as always not at all affected.

“If you get killed, it’s on you,” Geralt eventually growls, turning back towards the camp.

Now he just needs to convince himself of that. Easy.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates comments, including: 
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> If you don’t want a reply, for any reason, feel free to sign your comment with “whisper” and I will appreciate it but not respond!


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